


Your Word With Mine

by nightlyme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Flustered Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Humor, Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Lance (Voltron), Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Somewhat, Vampire Keith (Voltron), a lil bit of angst, idk how explicit yet tho, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightlyme/pseuds/nightlyme
Summary: Keith and Lance didn’t get along.When they find themselves deep in a secret they have to keep from the world, they’re both rather unhappy about the situation.But hey, it’s not so bad when your rival is maddeningly attractive.ORKeith and Lance are two complete dumbasses that have no idea what they’re doing. Oh, and Keith’s a vampire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i haven’t written in so long so this was really fun for me to write and i’m excited to continue with the story. this may feel a bit rusty, but i hope it’s still good.
> 
> i’m aiming to add a lot of concepts and relationships that i really wanted to see in canon, but never got. so this is pretty self-indulgent lol
> 
> anyways, please enjoy!

"Okay, that's all for today. Make sure to stretch before you leave."   
  
Keith watches his class muddle together as they leave their designated spots on the worn wooden floor to either ignore Keith's advice and leave, or find a new a spot where it's not so crowded to stretch.   
  
Keith wipes a sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove-clad hand and sets the wooden staff he had used to teach the class against the wall. The gloves are uncomfortable now with the heat of working out, so he tugs them off and tosses them next to the staff. He can feel his bangs lightly sticking to his forehead, but he doesn't mind.   
  
Once the last of his students filter out, he reaches for the phone hidden in the pocket of his bag and checks for any messages. Finding nothing, he switches to Facebook (Shiro made him get one. He still doesn't quite know how it works.) and catches a certain local news video popping up several times in his feed. Keith double-checks that nobody's in the room before turning up his volume and clicking on the video.    
  
" _ We have multiple reports of a similar homicide occurring throughout neighboring cities of Garrison, Widow Valley, Hedrickson, South Dyre, and Rolling Fern. _ " The anchorwoman pauses for a breath.    
  
" _ The pictures we are about to show you are graphic, so please take this as warning. _ "   
  
Two pictures display on the screen, both of the same man.   
  
" _ As you can see, there's a deep gash in the man's neck, and he is not the only victim of this crime. This method of killing has been used on eleven people in the past three days. _ " More pictures of more people pop up. " _ All homicides of this like are suspected to be occurring during the night, so please, we advise you to stay indoors when the sun goes down and take caution when you go outside. Be safe. _ "   
  
The video ends with a familiar "Watch again?" appearing on the screen.   
  
Keith's eyebrows are furrowed together, in both worry and question. He decides not to dwell on it though, seeing as he still has another class to teach in thirty minutes and he knows Axca is already getting impatient at the front desk, waiting for Keith to take over.   
  
Keith loves sitting at the front desk. There's really no work to do except answering phone calls and greeting people then checking them in. Mr. Zarkon, the guys who runs this place, is too cheap to hire to an actual receptionist, so he established a rotation for all of the instructors to take turns.   
  
He spins idly in the rolling chair, waiting for something to happen.   
  
Finally, Keith hears the front doors' bell  _ ding! _ and he abruptly stops spinning to face forward.   
  
"Hi, welcome to Marmora Self-Defense— Shiro? Hey! What are y—"   
  
_ Lance _ .   
  
Shiro seems to catch Keith's gaze towards the Cuban man next to him. "Oh! Yeah, um, he said he was really interested in trying this place out, so I brought him." He offers a somewhat-apologetic smile.   
  
Keith sits in his chair, silently seething. This is  _ his _ place.  _ His _ work. He doesn't need that obnoxious bastard to come in and disrupt his peace at the only place he can relax in. And Shiro is well aware of his and Lance's issues, so now his anger is directed at the  _ both _ of them.   
  
Keith tosses Shiro an unimpressed look. "Yep. I'm going on break."   
  
He doesn't really care if anybody's at the desk or not. He doesn't have the patience to deal with Lance today.   
  
Or any other day, really.   
  
Ever since that fateful day when Shiro had introduced his apparent new best friend to Keith, the relationship was on a downslide. Lance annoyed Keith to no end, with all his rude jabs and disregard for minding his own business. It didn't take long for Keith to boil his dislike towards the guy to hate. He would come to Shiro's house, finding all of the snacks Shiro bought for  _ Keith _ being munched on by  _ Lance _ . And he was an absolute TV hog. There's no way somebody could enjoy TLC that much. Keith doesn't know what made Lance oppose him so much that he doesn't give a single shit about  _ being nice _ to his own friend's brother. But whatever.   
  
Keith pushes the chair back and stands up, getting ready to escape to the break room.   
  
"Wait!" Shiro calls. "He won't bother you, I made him promise."   
  
Keith turns around and crosses his arms. "There's no more classes today. Come back tomorrow."   
  
Keith catches Lance's eyebrows scrunching up. He's been uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe he  _ won't _ bother Keith?   
  
"Keith. I know you have another class."   
  
"Yeah, and he's not joining it."   
  
Shiro groans. "Oh my god, I'll be with him. It won't even feel like he's there."   
  
Really?   
  
————   
  
" _ Lance _ ! Can you  _ please _ follow along with the class?"   
  
Keith had it. He was seconds away from grabbing the Cuban man by the collar and personally dragging him out of the room.   
  
"I  _ told _ you, I don't understand it. So I'm doing my own thing. Jeez."   
  
"If you  _ don't wanna participate, _ then you can leave."   
  
"I  _ do _ want to!"   
  
The rest of Keith's students are staring dumbfounded at the dispute. He doesn't blame them— this is already their fourth argument and it's only been fifteen minutes. They're only on  _ warm-ups _ and Lance is having trouble.    
  
Keith was on the verge of strangling him.  _ Strangling _ .    
  
" _ Shiro _ , can you please help him?"   
  
Shiro nods curtly and turns to Lance to guide him.   
  
Keith lets out an exhale of relief and returns to teaching his class.   
  
Throughout the next half-hour, Lance mostly keeps to himself except for the couple times he blurted out questions that he obviously knew the answer to. Keith caught Lance smirking as he would answer flatly, the urge to slam him to the ground with his bare hands growing stronger by the minute.   
  
Later when Keith is striding around the room, giving his students pointers as they grapple at each other, he pointedly turns away from Lance and Shiro.   
  
"Hey! You can't just deny me my education!" Lance's annoying voice calls out.   
  
Keith rolls his eyes and rubs his hands over his face. How much more could he take?   
  
When Keith hesitates, Lance calls again, "I paid for this class so tell me what I'm doing wrong, Mullet-Head."   
  
Keith spins around and faces his brother and Lance, but avoiding any form of eye contact. "Fix your stance. Your legs are too far apart— That leaves you vulnerable."   
  
Keith raises his eyes to glare daringly into the blue ones before him. Lance doesn't respond.   
  
Only ten minutes later, Shiro is tapping on Keith's shoulder during a staff-match between two volunteers. Shiro's  _ supposed _ to be watching the battle, learning, but he instead he's trying to grab Keith's attention.   
  
"What?" Keith asks maybe a little too tersely. He inwardly winces at his tone but doesn't make a move to apologize.   
  
"Adam just texted me. He's taking Atlas to the vet— He says she threw up a lot? And was crying, too. So, I'm leaving."   
  
"Oh, okay. Yeah, go ahead, it's fine."   
  
When Shiro doesn't immediately start walking off, Keith raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"   
  
"You're gonna have to give Lance a ride home."   
  
"No." The response was instant.   
  
"Keith! I drove him here, he doesn't have a car."   
  
"Then take him with you to the vet! I'm not giving him a ride!"   
  
"You owe me a favor. So take him home."   
  
"Since when did I owe you a favor?"   
  
"How many times do I let you crash in my house? Eat my food? Drive my car, using  _ my _ gas? The least you could do is take Lance home, Keith." Shiro's voice had shifted into his world-renowned Dad Tone. Keith knows there's no way out of this.   
  
Keith sighs. His face scrunches into one of disgust before he's replying with, "Fine. Fine, I'll give him a ride."   
  
"Thank you." Shiro pats his shoulder and makes way to Lance to share the news.   
  
Another half-hour flies by and Keith's students are filing out of the room. Except for Lance.   
  
"I'll be out in a minute," Keith explains as he walks to locker room. "Just have to change and clock out."   
  
If Lance responds, Keith doesn't hear it.   
  
————   
  
Lance is walking behind Keith with his hands deep in his pockets. Keith can hear his shuffling footsteps as they make way to his car in silence. It's dark with nightfall and they're the only people out here. God, this is so awkward.   
  
Lance climbs into the passenger seat, then finally speaks. "Uh, is it alright if I—?" He gestures his workout bag towards the backseat, and Keith nods. Lance tosses his bag back, then turns in his seat to buckle up, eyes firmly forward.   
  
The windows fall dark the further away Keith drives from the self-defense center. Street lamps don't light up the road very well, leaving the black-haired boy squinting around the shine of his headlights.    
  
"I have to stop by CVS to pick up a prescription," Keith cuts through the silence.    
  
"Oh? What's the prescription for?"   
  
Keith can't even tell if Lance is teasing or genuinely curious, but either way it annoys him. "None of your fucking business."   
  
Lance scoffs. "Just trying to make conversation. It's pretty awkward in here."   
  
"Yeah? Not my fault."   
  
"I didn't ask to have you take me home either. Shiro insisted."   
  
"He's very persuasive that way," Keith mumbles.   
  
He pulls into a parking spot situated behind the CVS. Turning the keys and grabbing his wallet, Keith steps out the door. He turns to Lance and says, "I'll be as quick as I can," before shutting the door against the warm breeze.   
  
The walk to the front doors takes longer than expected. Keith really didn't seem to notice how far back he had to park, but shrugs it off. The inside of the CVS is quiet as always, a rather eerie silence echoing through the aisles. The soft music that usually plays has already been turned off for the day it seems.   
  
"Hi, welcome to CVS," a cashier greets plainly.   
  
Keith offers a pursed smile with a light wave and strides to the back of the store where the pharmacy waits for him.   
  
Of course there's a line. At ten PM.   
  
Keith groans. He settles behind a woman in office clothes, carrying a bulky briefcase. Her hair smells funny. Or is it just her? The man currently being helped is arguing with the pharmacist over the price. The woman behind him looks expectedly cross with the way her hips pop onto the side, a hand accompanying it.   
  
Ten minutes later, a baby starts crying from behind Keith. A mom with a carrier got in line shortly after he did. But thankfully, he's next in the queue. Almost there. Just need that damn prescription.   
  
"Okay, ma'am. Have a nice night," the pharmacist tells the woman with the funky smelling hair. She grabs her bag of drugs and turns.   
  
Keith steps up to the counter, but apparently too fast, because he finds his sneaker catching onto the office woman's heel and she nearly falls from tripping.   
  
His reaction wasn't immediate as he floundered for words. "I'm sorry, ma'am! That's totally on me."   
  
She sneers.   
  
And then she's gone.   
  
Okay.   
  
Keith's heart stabs with guilt, but he returns his attention to the man on the other side of the counter. "Uh, Kogane— Keith Kogane, please."   
  
The man clicks the screen a couple times. "How's your night been?"   
  
"Um, fine, I guess."   
  
The man gives a smile before leaving to find Keith's medication. He comes back quickly and states the price, to which Keith flinches at for the umpteenth time, and reluctantly swipes his card. The pharmacist tells Keith to "have a nice night" and he responds with a small "you too".   
  
Clutching the bottle, he makes his way back towards the entrance of the CVS. The summer wind hits him upon exiting and the smell of the beginnings of rain hits him. He turns the corner, eager to leave the ominous corner store, but runs into something— no, some _ one _ .   
  
" _ Lance _ ?" Keith hisses. "Why aren't you in the car?"   
  
"You were taking forever! I came to see what was holding you up!"   
  
"It was only—"   
  
"Fifteen minutes! That's a long time!"   
  
Keith rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Stop your screeching, let's just get going."   
  
Lance huffs indignantly and spins on his heel to follow Keith after he pushed right past him.   
  
Keith soon hears Lance's footsteps stop next to him. "What? Come on."   
  
"You don't hear that?"   
  
"Hear what? We're outside. The trees are  _ right there. _ The wind is blowing. There's bound to be some noise, Lance."   
  
"No it's like— Not  _ that _ ."   
  
Keith actually snorts. "Okay. That helps."   
  
Lance squawks. "Well I don't know how to describe it!"   
  
"Well just  _ keep walking _ and we'll get to the car, and you won't have to hear it anymore."   
  
Lance growls in annoyance but reluctantly falls into step next to Keith once more.   
  
Keith catches the sound of Lance's breath quickening. He turns to look at him, and his face is scrunched in worry as his head frantically whips around.   
  
"Keith, can we walk faster?"   
  
Keith tries to pick up his pace, but the darkness around them makes it harder to navigate.   
  
Darkness.   
  
Night.   
  
It hit Keith like a bus. The news report he watched earlier in the day had warned people to stay indoors, yet here he was with the most annoying person on the planet, walking casually to his car in the middle of the night— or  _ almost _ the middle of the night.   
  
Suddenly, Keith hears it too. A churning hum, hoarse and terrifying, ringing in his ears. Fear washes over him. The car isn't far, they just have to get to the car. The car, the car, where is the fucking car— The goddamn news report—   
  
A blood-curdling scream stabs through the air and Keith whistles around to see Lance being grabbed,  _ man-handled _ , by some  _ monster _ he can barely see in the dim lighting. The monster notices Keith and shoves Lance aside to go after him instead.   
  
Fuck.    
  
Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck is that— His mind reels as he swings at the creature's face, but much to his dismay, completely misses as it dodges the punch with superhuman speed. Keith hears a rumbling, a menacing cackle.   
  
Lance is on the ground, rubbing his head. The monster kicks Keith's knees out from under him, rendering him bested as well.   
  
The monster lunges at Lance, and Keith feels a new adrenaline surge pump through him.    
  
"Lance!" he shouts. He pounces from his spot on the ground, effectively tackling the monster before it even landed a finger on Lance. They roll to a stop, the creature hovering over Keith with his wrists gripped by gnarly fingers.   
  
And now Keith can finally see. It's the fucking  _ office lady _ from the pharmacy. What the fuck! What the fuck what the fuck what th—   
  
She bares her teeth, presenting knife-life fangs. Her breath is disgusting. Keith winces at the sight and smell combined as his mind spins further and further from sanity.   
  
He pushes up against her deadly grip, only managing a few inches off the hard gravel of the parking lot. Keith switches gears and begins using his legs to heave the lady (is she even human?) off his body. He locks his ankles against her own, twisting upwards (a glorious trick he learned from Galra Self-Defense) and found himself pushing the woman off of him. But before he could even relish in his small victory, she has him pinned again. This time much closer.   
  
"Lance!" Keith calls. He glances to the side to see the Cuban looking just a minute away from losing consciousness. How hard did he hit is head?   
  
The familiar cackle rumbles through the lady's chest. "You're going to taste amazing." Her lips part as she traces her tongue along her devilish fangs.    
  
Before Keith could really allow the meaning of those words to filter through his brain, he feels an incredibly sharp pain searing in his neck. He roars from the intrusion, frantically pushing against the woman's chest. Anything to make the pain go away, to stop, to just get her  _ off— _   
  
Then suddenly he hears a dull  _ clunk _ ! and the stabbing in his neck retracts, falling over to the side. Keith stares upwards. He finds Lance standing above him with a wooden plank in his hands. Lance is gaping.   
  
"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god—" Lance is quite clearly panicking with new adrenaline in his system, but Keith doesn't blame him.   
  
Keith can feel the trickle of blood running down the side of his pale neck. It's numb and yet it stings at the same time.   
  
"L—ance," he says brokenly. "Bleeding out ov—er h-here."   
  
"Shit, right, yeah, okay okay." Lance throws the hefty plank to the side and helps Keith to his feet.   
  
"C-can you walk?"   
  
"I..." Keith feels light-headed. Heavy in his own body.   
  
"Okay. Okay, it's fine. I got you." He heaves Keith's arm over his shoulder and drags him along.   
  
"Wai'..." Keith mumbles.   
  
"Hm?"   
  
"You needa kill...the..."   
  
"How?!"   
  
Keith groans in response. He can't think right now. His brain is throbbing in his skull.    
  
Lance huffs and finally makes it to Keith's car. He digs in the black-haired man's pockets for the keys, and shoves the aforementioned man in the passenger seat.   
  
"Um, I'll be right back."   
  
Keith hardly registers it.    
  
Loud banging is muffled from the car. Keith doesn't know what Lance is doing, he's just praying he listened to him.   
  
The driver's car door opens hastily just a few minutes later and Lance practically flies into the seat, reaching for the keys once again.    
  
"Okay. We're going to the hospital. Then the police. Or both at the same time maybe. I dunno."   
  
"Did you...kill...?" Keith asks weakly.   
  
"Y-yeah. At least I'm pretty sure. I really don't wanna talk about it." Lance grimaces.   
  
"Then...no police."   
  
"Wha— why?"   
  
Keith points to Lance. "You mur-murdered."   
  
Lance's eyes widen in horror. "It was self-defense! You told me—"   
  
"Yeah." Keith swallows. "But it doesn'...matter."   
  
Lance seems to understand and instantly slouches in his seat. The quiet only lasts for a second before Lance is flying forwards again, eager to start the ignition.   
  
"Chill ou'," Keith mutters.   
  
"Your neck! You're gonna fucking die! Oh my god what the hell is going on—"   
  
Keith reaches up, dazedly curious, and touches his wound. But he can't find it.    
  
"Is it bad?"   
  
Lance looks over and his expression only crumbles more. "What the hell! What the absolute mother of fuck! You  _ just _ had two giant holes in your neck! What did you  _ do _ ?!"   
  
Keith winces at Lance's loud screeching. "I dunno."   
  
"What do I do now. Hospital?”   
  
"Just...take me home. I'm ti'ed."   
  
"No way! You're coming back to my place if we’re not going to the ER. I am  _ not _ sleeping  _ alone _ in my apartment tonight."   
  
"Whatever."   
  
"You say that too much," Lance mumbles, then begins backing out of the lot.    
  
Keith soon lets his mind succumb to the blackness.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i realized i didnt really explain quite what happened at the end of the last chapter hhh... i wrote it at 3am so my bad. ANYWHO, the bites in keith's neck disappeared but the blood's still there, hence why lance was freaking out. really sorry, i tend to lose braincells the later at night it gets lmao
> 
> also there’s some very mild sexual content, so this is just a warning ig. it’s not klance tho :(

There's black spots swimming in his vision.   
  
Lance is on the verge of tears, either a side effect of his current panic or the fact that he just escaped a near-death situation, he doesn't know.    
  
What he does know is that his best friend's little brother is passed out next to him as he's driving  _ his _ car, and he can still  _ barely fucking see _ .    
  
It started raining five minutes ago. Lance is praying to God, to any angel who can hear him, that they don't end up almost dying  _ again _ , this time from a car wreck. It's dark, his vision is questionable, and the rain is pounding at the windshield relentlessly. Not to mention his head aches horrendously, but he can't cradle his skull as his hands were placed firmly on the wheel.    
  
And Lance has no idea what to do with Keith. One minute he was bleeding out, his neck torn open, and the next, the holes were gone with only drying blood in their place. Lance had blinked several times to make sure he was seeing things correctly; So when nothing changed, he decided he was just going insane.    
  
And he has to take Keith to his house. This is definitely at the top of the list of things Lance does not want to do, but he knows there's no other option. Leaving Keith in the state he's in  _ by himself _ would be a total jackass move, even for Lance.   
  
As Lance parks into his usual spot by his apartment building, he realizes two things: One, he's going to have to drag, or god-forbid  _ carry _ , Keith upstairs. Two, he has to do so  _ in the rain _ .   
  
Lance slides a palm down his face. He shuts his eyes, exhaustion seemingly coming over him. He just wants to fucking sleep. Forget this day ever happened. He blames himself for ever conjuring up the idea that learning self-defense would be  _ fun _ and  _ cool _ . If he had just stayed home, minded his business, maybe caught up on some Netflix show—   
  
He needs to stop. He needs to get out of this fucking car. He turns to Keith to find him with his neck bent uncomfortably and his mouth parted with barely a slit in between. Lance can't telling whether he's breathing through his nose or his mouth, for he's too quiet of a sleeper. For once, Keith doesn't look like he wants to beat the shit out of him. It's nice.   
  
Okay. Okay, no more stalling.   
  
_ How the hell is he gonna do this? _ _  
_   
Just suck it up and endure the pelting rain? Okay, it won't be too far of a walk. It's no big deal. Getting a little wet brings no harm.   
  
Lance makes sure to grab the car keys before taking a deep breath, shoving the door open, and hurling himself into the storm and to the other side of the car to tug Keith out. Lance wheezes in the process. Keith definitely did  _ not _ feel this heavy earlier.   
  
"God,  _ fuck _ ," Lance curses.   
  
He manages a wobbly kick to the passenger door to shut it. As he lifts Keith's arm over his shoulder, he quickly smashed the lock button on the keys. The water seems to be coming down faster by the second, and Lance takes to the stairs with as much speed as he can muster. With his clothes practically soaked, his hair matted to his forehead like he had just gone for a swim, he finally reaches his apartment door.   
  
After fumbling for his keys (Keith draping his weight onto his entire left side was  _ not _ helping), the pair step indoors into sweet, sweet shelter. Lance is hasty in making his way to the couch where he flops down the black-haired boy. Keith gives no indication he felt anything.   
  
Lance lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.    
  
He feels the water seeping through his clothes and onto his skin, leaving him with a shocking cold. He needs to take a shower, no matter how tired he is.   
  
Lance gently (and very _ awkwardly _ ) situates Keith higher up on the couch so his head is supported on the armrest. He grabs a throw blanket and lays it on top of Keith.   
  
Okay. That should be fine.   
  
Lance takes one last glance at the sleeping boy before heading to his own room.   
  
————   
  
It's around five AM by the time Lance rolls out of bed, much to the boy's dismay. His sheets feel entirely too uncomfortable with the heat of the summer night sinking into his skin. Perching on the edge of the cheap mattress, Lance rubs a hand down his face in attempt the scrub the sleep away. He groans when he stands, checking the clock one last time to ensure he's not running late.   
  
He misses his roommate. Ryan left early last evening to spend the weekend at his girlfriend's place, and although Lance is happy for him that their relationship is budding into something more serious, he can't help but miss all the little quirks he did around the apartment in the mornings. Mainly, the coffee. Lance is used to waking up to a warm mug already prepared, sometimes accompanied with breakfast if Ryan is feeling generous.   
  
Upon breaching his own bedroom door, he realizes his day is about to get remarkably worse.   
  
Because there Keith is, a disgusting mop of raven-black mullet, sprawled along his couch with a single blanket to cover. He doesn't make a move when Lance flips the light switch on, or when he's making racket in the kitchen in attempt for breakfast.   
  
_ Heavy sleeper? _ Lance inquires. He still doesn't know quite what to make of this situation. He's pretty sure the blood has long since crusted on the other man's pale neck (with, of course, no bite marks as evidence to the incident). Lance chooses to believe Keith never had a gash torn into him to begin with. Nope. The blood has to be from the platinum-blond-weird-smelling-terrifying  _ thing _ attacking him. No other explanation.    
  
Once Lance has created a decent breakfast consisting of eggs and sausage, he sits down on his barstool and turns on the TV. Apparently Nickeloden was the last channel to be viewed, and now the laugh-track of  _ George Lopez _ from Nick-@-Nite is filling up the small space of the apartment. Lance would normally situate himself on the couch as he watched TV, but, you know.   
  
Only fifteen minutes later Lance is fumbling with his dampening hair from his shower and scrambling to find his uniform. He only has a few more minutes until he needs to leave. When he finally finds his discernible baby blue button-down with the khaki shorts, he's clambering around the apartment for his other essentials.   
  
Then his eyes land on Keith   
  
Fucking Keith.   
  
He's still passed out like a log. What is Lance supposed to do with him? He can't just  _ leave _ him here, he's  _ Keith _ ! It's also against basic-respectful-roommate rules to allow strangers inside the house, let alone  _ leave _ them there. Sure, Keith isn't a stranger to Lance, but Ryan's never met the guy. But Lance doesn't have time to drop Keith off!   
  
Shiro. He can call Shiro.   
  
Lance hastily dials in his best friend's number. He waits for what feels like an eternity until the number goes straight to voicemail and Lance realizes why. It's five-fucking-thirty AM.   
  
Lance groans.   
  
So there's really only one option.   
  
He stomps over to the couch, yanks away the blanket, and yells, " _ Keith! Get your ass up _ !" But of course he still makes no indication of consciousness. Lance begins to wonder if the guy's actually dead, but then catches sight of his chest falling up in down in steady breaths.   
  
Lance grumbles a curse in Spanish under his breath before reaching for the throw pillow tucked into the corner of the couch cushions.   
  
_ Slap _ ! "Get—"  _ Slap _ ! "up—"  _ Slap _ ! "you—"  _ Slap _ ! "stupid—"  _ Slap _ ! "fucking—" He can't find the insult he wants to use so he stops his yelling. Then the brutal one-man-pillow-fight becomes more desperate as Lance starts pounding the thing against Keith repeatedly.   
  
"Wha—" Keith stirs and groggily braces his arms in front of his face in attempt to shield himself.   
  
The hitting stops. "Get the fuck up, lazy ass!"   
  
Keith grimaces before letting out an indignant groan and flopping back against the comfort of the couch. Lance huffs and leaves to his bedroom to snatch a clean, plain t-shirt.   
  
He throws it at Keith. "Put this on."   
  
"Why?" His voice is muffled from where he's stuffing his face into the cushions.   
  
"You're coming to work with me. I'm not about to let you hang out at my house,  _ alone _ ."   
  
Lance expects him to protest, maybe scream a little, but all he receives is, "Sure."   
  
After finally convincing Keith to put on the  _ not _ blood-stained shirt, hastily cleaning off the blood on his neck, dragging him to the car (plus grabbing his wallet from his own car, completely due to Keith's rather rude pleading), they finally get on the road to Lance's job.   
  
The sunrise is barely peaking above the horizon, just enough to where Lance isn't quite blinded by the bright rays. Leftover puddles of water are scattered about the streets from the rain last night; They place reminders of the terrors Lance experienced, and he tries desperately to shake the thoughts away. What would have become of him if Keith hadn't tackled the monster to the ground? What would have become of  _ Keith _ if he hadn't hit the monster with the wooden plank? He can't help but wonder how incredibly lucky they are— He also can't help but think everything was just a dream, but the memory of the sticky blood crusting on Keith's neck proved him wrong.    
  
Lance takes a glance at the aforementioned boy beside him. He's still slumped and sleeping against the dashboard despite the seatbelt straining against his body. (Lance already tried several times to get him to sit comfortably, but whatever.)    
  
And with all the recent events piling in his head, Lance, to say the least, is annoyed. Of course he had to experience a life threatening situation with none other than Keith Kogane. Now he's having to drag his ass to work with him because he's clearly still recovering from whatever the fuck happened the night before and is incapable of driving himself.   
  
Lance is  _ not _ fond of Keith. And he knows the feeling is mutual. He has a way of holding himself higher than everyone, making people around him feel like they're less than what they are. Lance is sure of it, from the way he openly ignores anybody that isn't Shiro (or Adam. And Hunk, too). And Keith is so blatantly rude, but especially to Lance. He doesn't know why. Lance of course takes it personally and makes it his mission to prove to Keith that he isn't some subordinate, or somebody worth pushing around.   
  
But in this moment, the usual hate that's supposed to be searing through his veins isn't there.   
  
Maybe there's gratitude? Keith saved his life after all.   
  
Lance doesn't know what he's feeling. Nor does he care.   
  
————   
  
"Hi, Lance!"   
  
Lance waves kindly to Romelle at the front desk. Her hair is lovely as ever, pulled back into intricately braided pigtails. Her uniform is its usual bagginess due to her smaller frame, but Lance can only see just how cute she looks.   
  
"Hey, Ro." He looks back to the stumbling figure behind him. "Do you think you could get me a room for him?" He jerks his thumb in Keith's direction. "You know, like, employee perks or whatever?"   
  
"Yeah!" She's enthusiastic until... "Wait... Why?"   
  
Lance plops his hand on top of Keith's head and steers him to stand beside him. He can barely keep his eyes open. "I needed to take him to work with me. So. Here we are."   
  
"Get your hand off of my fucking head."   
  
Lance is quick to remove the offending appendage before Keith bites it off (or something. Keith is violent.)   
  
"Okay," Romelle continues, ignoring the pair's banter. "Room 147 is open. Here's the key."   
  
Lance takes the offered key card and grabs Keith by the elbow to lead him to the room.   
  
"You work at a  _ hotel _ ?"   
  
" _ Resort _ , Keith. Did you seriously not see any of the view as we were parking?"   
  
"I was asleep, dickhead." He speaks again after a pause, "So, like,  _ where _ is this resort? I don't recall there being one in Garrison."   
  
"Yeah it's about forty-five minutes away. It's on the coast."   
  
"Wait, is this that Altea Resort?"   
  
"Yep! You're so smart, Keith!" Lance exclaims sarcastically.   
  
"Just get me to the room so I can go back to sleep," Keith growls out.   
  
Once they arrive at the room, Lance turns to Keith with a serious expression plastered on. " _ Don't _ fuck up anything. If you do  _ anything _ it's on me. Losing my job isn't on my to-do list today."   
  
"Well now you're just giving me more incentive to fuck everything up."   
  
Lance glares. "Keith."   
  
He rolls his eyes. "Sure, whatever. See ya." And with that, he unlocks the door and steps inside, loudly slamming it shut in Lance's face. Satisfied, Lance leaves to clock-in and begin his work day.   
  
————   
  
It's only an hour later when Lance receives a ring from his phone laying atop his desk. It startles him from the quiet in his office.    
  
"Hello?"   
  
" _ Hi, Lance _ !" Romelle's voice greets him on the other line.   
  
"Hey? What's up?"   
  
" _ There's someone asking to speak with you. He said he's the guy that was with you this morning. _ "   
  
Lance inwardly groans as his head falls into his free hand. "What does he want?" he asks tiredly.   
  
" _ Don't know, he just told me to put you on the line. So I'm gonna forward you, okay? _ "   
  
"Wait, Rom—"   
  
" _ Lance _ ?" And suddenly the woman's heavenly soft voice is replaced with a gravely one.   
  
Lance lets his groan sound through the phone this time. "What? What is so important that you have to directly contact me and interrupt my work?"   
  
" _ Jeez _ ."   
  
"Keith!"   
  
" _ Chill! I was just going to ask if you could order me something from room service. I'm starving. _ "   
  
Lance sputters. "Why did you have to call me?! I'm not fucking room service!"   
  
" _ The only number I could find was the front desk! _ "   
  
Lance breathes in, hoping it'll qualm his sanity. "Keith. There is an entire  _ phonebook _ chalk- _ full _ of numbers you can call throughout the resort.  _ Room service is on the first page _ !"   
  
" _ Yes, but there's all sorts of fucking room services! There's one if you need towels and a whole other one if you need soap. There's no reason those should be separate! Same with the mechanics— why is there one number for AC and another one for the TV?! There's an entire list of different food services and I didn't know which one to call! Does the Altean Breakfast food service differ that fucking much from the American Breakfast food service that you have to separate the two?! They should be together! All under one phone number! I should be able to order food without sweating over if I'm calling the right one! What the hell even is an Altean Breakfast?! It hardly explains! But I wouldn't need a detailed explanation if everything was just in one place! It doesn't have to be complicated! _ "   
  
Lance blinks.   
  
He can hear Keith's heavy panting on the other side of the line as he sits in utter silence, completely dumb-founded.   
  
"Okay..." He swallows. "That's..." He doesn't even know.  _ He _ never thought it was that complicated. "Just uh, what do you want?"   
  
" _ I'm craving like, meat. But like in a sandwich. And... carb-y stuff. Y'all got that right? _ "   
  
Lance frowns. "Yeah... Can you maybe be more specific in what you mean with 'carb-y stuff'?"   
  
" _ Uh, mac n cheese, please. _ "   
  
Lance has never heard Keith Kogane say the word "please" in the year he's known him. His sudden politeness, especially after an entire minute of screaming about difficult phonebooks, throws Lance off. When Keith notices his hesitation he speaks up again: " _ Okay, I  _ know _ I'm lactose intolerant. But it's Shiro's job to yell at me for it, not you. So order me the fucking cheese. _ "   
  
Well Lance did  _ not _ know Keith is lactose intolerant. The idea of Keith sitting in aching stomach pain from just a couple bites of macaroni and cheese makes Lance giggle to himself evilly, so he of course agrees to order him the mac.   
  
" _ Wait! I also want a smoothie. Well— okay. A thick smoothie. Like. If it's one of those runny smoothies then I don't want it. _ "   
  
"Okay, Mr. Picky."   
  
" _ It's just what I'm craving _ !"   
  
"Still picky."   
  
Keith groans. " _ So are the smoothies thick or not _ ?"   
  
Lance rolls his eyes. "I'll make sure it comes out  _ extra-thick _ for you, Mr. I Have To Have Everything The Way I Want."   
  
" _ Okay. I'm hanging up now. _ "   
  
Lance sighs. He didn't get the flavor of the smoothie.   
  
————   
  
It's nearing ten AM when Lance finds himself in one of the smaller meeting rooms held off in a secluded area of the resort. He and Hunk are just waiting on the arrival of their boss, Allura.   
  
"Hello, boys!" A chippy voice sounds through the room, and Lance spins to find Coran, Allura's personal assistant, entering through the door.   
  
"Hey, Coran," Hunk and Lance greet back.    
  
"Hi, sorry I'm late!" comes in another voice, this one accented and as sparkly and smooth as a necklace of pearls. Lance instantly perks up, removing his attention from the red-haired man to the stunning woman upon the threshold. She's in a suit with her hair tied up into its usual, delicate bun. You can see the roots where her silvery hair fades out and her deep brown grows in— Lance finds it especially endearing. She flashes an apologetic (and absolutely  _ gorgeous _ ) smile at the two men sitting down.   
  
"It's okay," Lance reassures. "You're not even late! Still got a minute to spare!" He grins, hoping it's as eye-catching as he thinks.   
  
Allura just smiles in response, and takes a seat at the head of the table with Coran sitting adjacent to her.   
  
"Just a quick debriefing— I need to make sure everything is in order for the brunch in an hour. I heard there were a few complications." She then looks to her employees expectantly.   
  
Hunk, as the head chef, speaks up. "Yes, the food is being prepared and it will be ready on time. Um, we were running low on the bacon and sausage, but we fixed the issue, thanks to Lance." He nods in his friend's direction with a fond smile.   
  
"Yeah, so turns out our seller for the bacon and sausage had been short on shipments— And this isn't the first time. So I released them from our settlement, and I'm already working on getting another seller. We were able to make a quick purchase with another company, staying in budget." Lance is so damn good at his job. And he knows it.   
  
"Okay— Then everything seems to be in order!" Allura beams. "I have the best events coordinator don't I?" She says to the now blushing, brown-haired boy.   
  
"Thanks..." He responds sheepishly.   
  
"You're all dismissed," she announces, but sounding more of like a friend than a CEO.   
  
Hunk's out of his seat, eager to get back to the kitchen. Coran leaves as well, muttering something about retrieving a coffee. Lance however is hesitant on leaving once he catches Allura's seemingly strained smile fade into a small scowl.   
  
"Uh, hey, is everything okay?"   
  
She looks up, surprise evident on her face, and immediately goes back to staring at her lap. "Yes, thank you... Things have just been, hectic, lately."   
  
"Is it...?" He trails off, hoping she'll finish the sentence for him and confirm his suspicions.   
  
"Galra? Yeah."   
  
Lance sighs. Lotor Galra, the current CEO of Galra Hotels, had been quite close with Allura. Nobody knew how long they'd been together, but their relationship had steadily grown more obvious in the months they knew each other. Then, about five months ago, a great chunk of money was lost from Altea Resort's accounts. The original suspicion was embezzlement, but Allura quickly ruled it out after duly noting that her employees were the best she could ask for, and wouldn't dare betray her in such a way. The very obvious suspect, was Galra Hotels. Or namely, Lotor. The case was immediately brought to trial and the two businesses have been fighting ever since. Not to mention a nasty break-up had ensued.   
  
"I'm sorry," Lance says gravely. "Is there anything I can do? Like, take up some of the work? I know—"   
  
"No, Lance," Allura cuts him off. "This isn't your job. I will be fine. It's just difficult right now, is all."   
  
He nods, reluctantly, but lets the topic go nonetheless. "Okay... Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help." He catches a kind smile on the woman's lips before he leaves the room.    
  
————   
  
Keith doesn't bother Lance throughout the rest of the day, thank  _ god _ .    
  
The thought both eases and worries Lance— the latter being a result of not knowing just what the Korean boy was doing. He idly wonders if he  _ left _ , but he knows the only person who'd come all this way would be Shiro, and surely Shiro would text Lance. He brushes it off, though, determined to keep focused on his work (and perhaps subtle thoughts of a pretty blue-eyed, silvery haired boss).   
  
His break finally comes along sometime in the early evening. He and Hunk always match up their break times so they can hang out near the upper-level (and extremely  _ fancy _ ) pool area together and eat dinner (or occasionally lunch). Lance's phone is buzzing repeatedly from his back pocket. He grumbles as he scrambles for the item while shuffling his way through the resort's halls.   
  
Several messages from Hunk are lighting up his screen, asking where he is. Lance texts back, saying he's only a couple minutes late and he's on his way. He shoves the phone back into his packet upon entering the widespread changing room connected to the pool area; You have to go through here in order to reach the other side.   
  
Lance takes his routine path, scooting down familiar rows of lockers and benches, passing by only a few guests (who seem to be on their way out). He's walking down a set of showers when he hears a very quiet, muffled groan-of-sorts emerge from behind one of the curtains.   
  
Lance stops in tracks to turn around towards the noise. He pauses. Nothing.    
  
_ Okay, whatever _ , he says to himself, whirling back around.    
  
Then he hears a wet, slopping sound. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Is there something in the shower?    
  
He decides to call out, seeking to know if anybody is actually there. "Hello?"   
  
He receives no response, and instead hears the sound again. Lance steers right towards the noise, determined to understand. Maybe there's... a leak? This doesn't sound like a leak, though.    
  
"Hello?" he calls out again. He groans when there's no answer, and swiftly tugs the shower curtain to the side.   
  
And he  _ yelps _ .   
  
There, standing in the corner of the tiles, is a man with choppy blond hair with a now terrified expression— stunned into silence. But that's not what Lance is transfixed on; He's focused on the head that's connected to the man's hand, sitting level at his groin and hastily going back and forth, creating filthy noises.   
  
Oh my  _ god _ .   
  
He'd recognize that disgusting haircut anywhere.   
  
Of course Lance manages to walk in on  _ Keith _ giving a fucking  _ blowjob _ .    
  
Lance finally recovers. "What the fuck?!"   
  
"We-we're sorry, sir, I'll—" the blond trips over his words and Lance raises a hand to silence him. He leans over, scowl growing by the second, and pinches Keith on the arm.   
  
Keith growls in annoyance and finally disconnects his lips from the man's erection. "What the hell, Lance! All you have to do is walk away! No big deal!" Anger is evident in his voice.   
  
" _ No big deal?! You're sucking his dick in a public area! _ "   
  
"And we were  _ hidden _ ! Just walk away, moron!"   
  
Lance's fists curl fiercely as he growls in frustration. Then a closed-mouth scream ensues. Without another word, he yanks the curtain closed and storms off with a huff, the image of Keith giving head burning in his brain.   
  
Break is not going to be fun.   
  
————   
  
Break was indeed, terrible. As was the rest of the night.    
  
Lance can't seem to keep his mind clear of the fresh memory of Keith...doing... _ that _ .   
  
Lance feels violated. Though really, he was the one violating  _ them _ . So in a way, he also feels guilty— but also not.  _ They _ were the ones doing it publicly. Lance's feelings are all over the place and he doesn't spend a second on trying to map them out.    
  
He certainly doesn't appreciate the dirty thoughts, either. Those he  _ definitely _ doesn't try to map out.    
  
His workday ends in ten minutes, so he reluctantly makes way to the room 147, praying Keith is there and he won't have to hunt him down.   
  
He lets out a deep breath before knocking ever so politely.    
  
He waits.    
  
And waits.    
  
No response. So he knocks again, this time with more urgency and a call of "Keith?". When all he receives is silence again, he decides that hunting Keith down is apparently now on his agenda. He spins on his heel to leave, but a spine-chilling scream stops him.   
  
What the hell?   
  
"Keith?!  _ Keith _ !" He shouts desperately towards the door. Adrenaline shifts through his body and he grabs for his employee key card. His hands are shaking as he swipes it across the scanner. The green light shines and Lance instantly shoves open the door, heart in his throat.   
  
Because what he sees is Keith and the man from earlier, naked and flush against each other with the blond in Keith's lap. They're rocking against each other, and it doesn't take an idiot to understand their activities.   
  
It does, however, take a  _ genius _ to try and figure out why Keith has his head buried into the man's neck, blood dripping from his chin and spilling all over their bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhh idk how i feel about this chapter. thoughts??

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment with your thoughts!! anything is appreciated! thank you for reading <3


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